Zones, Stones and Dusty Old Tomes
by HopeCoppice
Summary: Separated from Blood Droplets for Being Really Angsty. Spoilers for up to 4x08 and THE BIG SPOILER. Just a few little thoughts and theories of mine really. Will add an alternative POV of c3 after the series is finished, probably, to clarify my meaning.
1. In the Zone

**For once in my life, the repetition is intentional. New story because this lot need an angst warning. Enjoy...**

**SPOILERS UP TO 4x08**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

_"Scared?"  
"Of course I'm scared. It was terrifying."_

He was trapped in a dark, cold place with no light and no peace. He was rooted to the spot; it felt as if his feet had sunk into the earth, or whatever passed for a floor here. He couldn't see it, doubted he could have seen his hand in front of his face even if they hadn't both been clamped over his ears anyway.

The screaming; it was unbearable, he wanted it to stop. They wouldn't stop, the voices of everyone he'd ever hurt, every breather he'd ever drained, crying out in mortal terror. It was hard to believe that he'd once relished the fear, savoured their screams.

Now, though, they weren't screaming because of him. No, the most horrifying thing as Bertrand struggled to move, to hide, to stop the infernal screaming, was the certain and inexplicable knowledge that the screams were being caused by whatever was coming for him out of the darkness. It was getting closer, he could sense it-

The darkness smashed around him, breaking into a million pieces, and he almost broke too before opening his eyes - when had he closed them? - to find himself on the floor of the Dracula quarters. He stood cautiously, trying to get his bearings and put his mind back in order. Vlad had learnt to give him that moment, at least.

It wasn't the first time Bertrand had been banished to that cruel nightmare world - Vlad might have been a natural, but he'd still needed to practice - but this time had been different. In their blessedly infrequent training sessions, Vlad had always been calm, albeit filled with the quiet, icy disdain he seemed to favour Bertrand with all the time these days. Bertrand, for his part, had always had chance to prepare, to brace himself, however pointlessly, for the shock of the zone.

This time, Vlad had lashed out in anger, and Bertrand had been caught off-guard. He'd been plunged into the darkness without warning, completely unprepared, and the threat had seemed somehow closer, as if every zoning was bringing him nearer to his doom. Worst of all, though, he'd had no idea when Vlad would let him out; if he ever would. If he would release him in time to save him.

_"Scared?"  
"Of course I'm scared. It was terrifying."_


	2. Colours of You

**Of COURSE I looked up the crystals on the internet (I already knew vaguely what I'd find). Enjoy random speculation. Not so angsty, bit of lore for you. Entirely made up of course.**

**SPOILERS UP TO 4x08**

**Disclaimer: The show's not mine.**

Vlad had the ability to encase vampires in quartz. 'Zoning', it was called, and the art was said to have died out centuries ago. It had taken Bertrand a very long time to find a book on the subject. Well, it had taken him three days. Bertrand was _very_ fast when it came to research.

Bertrand didn't particularly _enjoy_ being encased in quartz – the 'zone', as he called the dark dimension the stone trapped him within, was a nightmare land of unspeakable horrors – but as he continued to read up on the strange talent, he found himself curious.

"Vlad, do you have a minute?" The Chosen One scowled at him, as usual.  
"_One_, and it had better be important." Bertrand stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, listening for a few seconds to check that they were the only vampires in earshot.  
"When you zone me… is it always the same?" Vlad didn't seem to understand the question, so he rephrased. "There are lots of varieties of quartz-"  
"This is fascinating, Bertrand, I've got to-"  
"When you _turn me into a rock_ am I always the same colour rock?" Bertrand's anger had leaked out into his voice, and Vlad took a moment to look him up and down dismissively.  
"Maybe I should try it again to check." His tutor stepped back, bowing his head, and the corner of the Chosen One's mouth twisted upwards in a warped sneer. "Yes. Purple. I dunno, like amethyst or something." He moved over and held the door open, dismissal clear. "Very macho." Bertrand left in silence.

_The tyrant king Vincenc was famed for his use of the dark art of zoning as a test of his closest advisors. When reduced to quartz, he found that the particular variety was a nigh foolproof test of their personality. Amethyst_, Bertrand read, _indicated nobility of spirit and suggested that the victim would bring positive transformation and balance wherever they went; Vincenc was disinclined to release those who became amethyst due to their disposition towards curbing his more hedonistic tendencies and trying to bring him spiritual wisdom. He preferred Aventurine advisors, due to their more risk-taking nature (this may have contributed to his downfall in-_

Bertrand stopped reading; he wondered if the stuffy old academic who'd translated Vincenc's records could have imagined that one day a young vampire would cradle his work in his lap and stare in amazement at the insight an old tyrant king had had into his personality. He wondered if he would ever find out what kinds of quartz Vlad's other associates resembled; with Vlad in the mood he was in, trying to cope with the upcoming blood-binding and so on, he didn't dare mention this particular piece of trivia. He would scoff at the idea that Bertrand could be noble or do good, but worse, he might follow in Vincenc's footsteps. That wasn't the path Vlad wanted or needed to follow.

Weeks later, Bertrand stared in horror at a quartz crystal that had once been the Chosen One. He was fortunate; Renfield's _clumsiness_ had soon freed Vlad. Not, however, before Bertrand had seen the clear colour of his mineral prison.

_The only example Vincenc recorded of a clear quartz zoning was after a particularly nasty confrontation with his brother. Once freed from the torment of the rock, the brother united Vincenc's sons and nephews against him, toppling him from his throne before rebuilding vampiric society in the region from scratch. The clear quartz crystal, therefore, is associated with the crown, with the bringing together of disparate elements, and with a terrible fire that yearns to cleanse the world of all it dislikes. Karel's reign was dustier even than his brother's, and it took a long and arduous battle to bring him down, breaking his kingdom apart._

Bertrand frowned; he couldn't be remembering it right. But then Vlad shouted at him to go away, and the net was closing around him, and he realised the danger he was in.

Still, he did not leave the school.


	3. As Dust Settles

**Speculation fic. I apologise if anything seems unclear, I don't want to explicitly state my theory in case I'm right so I've just written enough to prove to myself that's what I was thinking at this point.**

**SPOILERS for THE BIG SPOILER about 4x10.**

**Disclaimer: If the show were mine, the episode summaries would not have contained spoilers.**

If zoning had been terrifying - and it had - Bertrand had expected this to be somehow worse, if it was anything. Truthfully, he'd thought there would be nothing. Vampires didn't have souls; there was simply nothing to go on after the body crumbled to dust.

Yet here he was - apparently coat, boots and all - in an oddly dry, comfortably warm place he couldn't quite make out the details of in the dim, eerie half-light. He took a tentative step forwards and was relieved to find that he could, the surface beneath his boot reassuringly crisp. In fact the whole atmosphere of wherever-he-was was reassuring; it reminded him of quiet dusks spent in the library. It was comforting. It was peaceful.

It was peaceful, until Vlad's voice reached him, harsh and bitter.  
"He was a traitor. He's been working against me all this time, you saw it yourself!" A loud bang, somehow muffled, and then silence. Bertrand didn't much like this turn of events; what if he was doomed to hear the Chosen One's outbursts forever - that familiar, beloved voice inescapably close but so impossibly, achingly distant?

Was this a vampire's fate, then? To be stuck in limbo for all eternity? If that was so, he realised, he might not be alone.  
"Ryan?" He spoke softly, as if he really was back in his treasured library. If this was where dead vampires went, if all fresh dust blew in at the same place, recent casualties of Vlad's peace might still be nearby. In fact... "Scrappers? Stephen? Josie, Charlotte, Leo, Todd?" He strained his ears and squinted into the gloom, but there was no response until, suddenly, the muffled echo of Vlad's voice surrounded him again.  
"Then you... Oh, _blood_. You were right, I was... I've ruined everything." Bertrand wished he could comfort him, only hoped that whoever the boy was talking to would do so. The air around him seemed to ripple briefly, a cool, bizarrely solid breeze passing through. The dull squeal of a handle met his ears before Vlad spoke again. "I wish I at least knew why you had _this_." A door closed somewhere with a muted click, and once again Bertrand felt suddenly, unbearably alone.

There must be someone - almost everyone he'd ever known was dust. There had to be _someone_ he hadn't put in that state himself, someone he could safely call out for. He hardly dared hope...  
"Mori?" There was no answer. "Francis? Bully?" He hesitated, but desperate times... "Bazza?" He was almost relieved by the lack of response - eternity was a long time to be irritated - but he held on for several moments, listening and hoping, before venturing one final effort. If this last name went unanswered it was proof - more proof even than Mori's silence was - that he was truly alone. "...Don?" He'd always answered, always, even when Bertrand wished he wouldn't. Now, there was nothing.

Bertrand stood in the silence for what felt like a very long time in a place where time had no meaning, until a soft, hesitant, feminine voice pervaded the air, murmuring words in an ancient tongue. Bertrand felt a stirring of energy, growing stronger and stronger until...

A page turned, and Bertrand could _see_.


End file.
